Maverick

by Cruise, Anna

  My stomach knotted and I cleared my throat, but couldn't find any words. There was nothing there. I was frozen.

  “What is Maverick's?” the administrator asked, looking around the table.

  “It's a place near San Francisco,” Ellen explained. “It's a break with some of the largest waves on the planet each winter. Most people can't surf it, it's too dangerous.”

  The administrator raised an eyebrow. “Oh, my.”

  “I'm sorry,” Wyatt said, holding a hand. “Bad question. I apologize.”

  I swallowed again, trying to cough up the words.

  Gina reached out and rested her hand on my thigh. Even through the fabric, I could feel the warmth of her touch as she gently squeezed. If she'd done it an hour ago, I would have taken it a different way. Suggestive. Flirtatious. But I knew what she was doing. Reaching out, making sure I knew she was there if I needed her. Reassuring me that I could do this. I could get through the question and I could get through the rest of the night, too.

  “It's okay,” I finally said. “It's okay. And, no. I don't plan to go back. There's...there's nothing for me there, man. I don't need to go back.”

  Wyatt nodded, like he understood.

  But, of course, he didn't. No one did. No one else was there that day. No one saw me goad Jay into making the drive up the coast. No one understood watching him go under. No one understood looking for him when he didn't come up. No one understood pulling his body out of the Boneyard.

  Just me.

  “Well,” Ellen said, standing. “I'm going to get this thing moving forward.” She smiled at each of us and made her way toward the podium at the front of the room.

  Gina leaned over to me. “Focus,” she whispered. “You're fine. You get stuck, just look at me. But you can do this and you'll be great.”

  I nodded.

  “Just focus,” she said. “Forget dinner.”

  I knew what she was alluding to. She wanted me to get Jay out of my head. Easier said than done.

  Ellen did what was probably a standard intro for banquets, thanking people for coming and thanking the committee that had arranged the evening's events. Then she cleared her throat and the lights dimmed and a large screen behind her lit up. With a picture of me. It was one I knew well—me in Indonesia last summer, hoisted on Matty's shoulders, the Billabong Pro trophy in my hands. Oakley shades on, my O'Neill rashguard featured prominently in the picture, all my sponsors front and center. And standing next to me, his arms thrown in the air in celebration, was Jay. My knee started bouncing and Gina reached out again to steady me. She leaned close and I felt her breath in my ear, could smell her shampoo, as she whispered, “Focus.”

  I tried. I looked away from the screen and stared instead at the space behind it, the wall that looked out on to the disappearing sun and the ocean that was ablaze with color. I listened as Ellen talked about me. She hit all the high points—the accolades I'd earned, the rankings I'd held, the win that weekend in Huntington Beach—and then she said my name and people began to clap and I realized I was up.

  Gina patted my thigh and I pushed myself out of the chair. I ran a hand over my tie, took a deep breath and walked to the podium. My legs felt wobbly, like I'd just spent an afternoon in the water. I shook hands with Ellen and she took her seat back at the table. I waited for her to sit down, then pulled the speech from my coat pocket and laid it on the podium. I looked up.

  Every single eye in the room was on me. It suddenly looked like a thousand people rather than a hundred. They were quiet, expectant, waiting for me begin. I'd been in front of far bigger crowds, but I'd been in the water. This time, there was no ocean and I didn't have my board. I didn't have the one thing I was good at to fall back on. All I had were words.

  I cleared my throat and glanced at Gina.

  She smiled, nodded and winked, like she knew something I didn't. Like she knew I could pull it off.

  And suddenly I relaxed. All of the worries, all of the fears, just sort of fell away. Because she believed in me. And I believed what she was telling me.

  I could do it.

  I looked at the speech for a second, laid my hands flat on the podium and, with one last, deep breath, began my speech. My voice sounded foreign to me, tinny and hollow in the microphone, but the more I spoke, the less I noticed. I started slowly, reading carefully from the paper in front of me. There were a few laughs at the right time and, when I glanced up, they were still looking at me, still engaged. My confidence surged a little. The more I spoke, the more comfortable I was, recounting my first time in the water and the first time I'd managed to stand up on the board. I started looking away from the pages and just talking, remembering the words Gina and I had gone over. By the time I'd gotten to the end, I was worried that I'd skipped part of it or forgotten it. When I said the last word, there was lots of clapping and lots of smiles and I guessed that I hadn't completely sucked.

  Ellen returned to the podium, thanked me and put a light hand on the small of my back, gently sending me back to my seat so she could start the awards.

  I took my seat again, reached for the water glass and downed the rest of it in a couple of swallows. I set it back down on the table and wiped at my mouth with the linen napkin. I glanced at Gina, who was staring openly at me.

  “What?” I whispered.

  A corner of her mouth turned upward into a smile. “Big in the moment.”

  SEVENTEEN

  I loosened the tie at my neck and felt like I could breathe for the first time in hours. “I'm starving.”

  We were headed up the 5, back toward San Clemente. We'd sat through nearly an hour of awards. I'd clapped politely and tried to stay interested and attentive. When it was over, I signed a bunch of autographs, shook a lot of hands and said thank you more times than I could count. The jitters were gone. And I was about ready to eat my hand.

  “Chicken wasn't enough?” Gina asked.

  “I didn't eat it.”

  “Yeah, I noticed,” she said. “Probably just nerves. It used every calorie you had in your body.”

  “Probably.” I didn't tell her that I just really didn't like fried chicken. “You mind driving through somewhere before you drop me?”

  “Sure.”

  Ten minutes later, she pulled off the freeway and I routed her toward an all-night Mexican place. She pulled up to the drive-thru menu and I ordered a carne asada burrito. I was surprised when she yelled into the speaker to make it two.

  “Guess you're hungry, too.”

  “I didn't eat, either,” she admitted as she pulled the car forward.

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “I don't know. Just didn't.”

  “You thought I was gonna screw it up.”

  “No. I really didn't.” But then she shot me a look and grinned. “OK, I might have thought that a little bit.”

  “Jesus. I knew it.”

  She cuffed me lightly on the arm. “Relax. I'm kidding. I knew you'd be great. I wouldn't have scheduled it if I thought you'd tank. Remember, I'm here to make you look good, not to help you self-destruct.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “So would now be a good time to tell you a girl gave me her number?”

  She pivoted her head in my direction, wide-eyed.

  I held up a hand. “Kidding.” When she continued to stare at me, her expression expectant, I sighed. “OK, so some chick tried. But I told her I had a girlfriend. I politely declined, as directed by you.”

  She looked like she was trying to decide if I was telling the truth.

  I held up my hands. “You can check my pockets if you want,” I said. “I didn't take it.”

  Her expression finally warmed slightly. “I believe you. I think.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “Whatever.”

  We pulled up to the window and she reached for her purse but I was already ready with a twenty I'd fished out of my wallet.

  “You don't have to pay for mine,” she said.

  “It's a burrito,”
I said. “And you've been driving my ass around everywhere.”

  “You pay mileage.”

  I laughed again. I should have known. “Just take it.”

  She hesitated, then handed the cash to the guy in the window. He handed her the change and a bag that was already showing grease stains on the bottom. A good sign.

  She dumped the bills and the bag in my lap. “Thank you.”

  “You're welcome,” I breathed in the aroma coming from the bag. “Now drive fast so we can eat.”

  She got us back to my place in four minutes but didn't kill the engine. Instead, she idled in the driveway. “I should go,” she said.

  I knew what she was thinking. It was late. We'd spent the entire evening together. Our work for the day was over.

  But I didn't want her to go. Not because I didn't want to be alone. Because I didn't want her to leave.

  “Come eat with me first,” I said.

  “It's late.”

  “How old are you?” I teased. “Ninety?”

  She made a face. “No, it's just...”

  I pushed open the passenger door, taking the food with me. “Come on.”

  A moment later, she cut the engine and followed me into the house.

  Rip was sitting on the kitchen table, like he knew we'd be bringing food. I stripped off the coat and tie and tossed them on the back of the couch in the living room.

  “You should hang up the jacket,” Gina said.

  “Why? Am I gonna have to wear it again?”

  She stepped out of her shoes and padded barefoot into the living room. “Maybe.”

  “I'll get it dry cleaned then.” I set the bag next to Rip on the table. He sniffed it and stuck his paw inside. “You want something to drink?”

  She hesitated.

  “It's not a trick question,” I said, opening the fridge.

  “I think I want a beer. If you have one.”

  I was surprised but didn't say anything, just held up one of the bottles of Pacifico. “This cool?”

  She nodded. I popped the cap off and handed it to her.

  I got a bottle of water for myself and twisted the lid off.

  “You're not having one?” she asked, holding her beer up in question.

  “Uh, no.” I took a swig of the water. “I was instructed not to drink, remember? By you.”

  She smiled and brought the bottle to her lips. “One beer. I'll let you have one.”

  I rolled my eyes but I was smiling. I drained the water bottle and grabbed a beer before joining her at the table. She'd already pulled the burritos out of the bag. I unwrapped mine and tore off a piece of tortilla. I tossed it to the floor and Rip jumped down after it.

  “He likes human food?” Gina asked, fiddling with the foil beneath the burrito.

  “He likes all food. He's a machine. He'll end up eating half. Guaranteed.”

  My stomach rumbled, like a signal to start eating, and I tore into the burrito, taking two huge bites.

  Gina watched.

  “What?” I asked, looking down at my shirt. Maybe I'd spilled some hot sauce or something.

  “I'm glad you didn't eat like that at the dinner.”

  I tore off another hunk, chewed, and swallowed. “I'm not a complete animal.”

  She smiled. “No, I guess not.”

  We ate in silence, Rip occasionally pawing at my leg, begging for more. I dropped a few more pieces and fifteen minutes later, my burrito was gone. I rolled up the foil into a ball and tossed it into the living room. Rip went skittering after it.

  “This is really good,” Gina said. “Really good.”

  “The beer or the burrito?”

  “Both.” She polished off the burrito and picked up her beer.

  I nodded. “Yeah. I usually eat there once a day.”

  “I would, too,” she said. She brought the bottle to her lips again and took another drink.

  I tried not to stare at her. The alcohol had loosened her up a little. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes a little glassy, a smile permanently planted on her lips. Her hair had loosened, a sloppy mess of a bun, and she reached up to undo it. Within seconds, her hair fell to her shoulders and all I wanted to do was reach out and touch it, to see if it felt as soft as it looked.

  “What?” she asked.

  I looked away. “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit. You were staring at me. Is my mascara running? Do I have sour cream on my chin?” She wiped at her mouth.

  “No. You look fine.” Better than fine. I tried to think of something to say, something that wouldn't give away what I was thinking about. “So, did I earn another question?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Another question?”

  I leaned back in my chair, rocking on its back legs. “You told me I had to earn them,” I said. “I did the speech. I behaved myself. That earn me another question?”

  “I already answered questions,” she reminded me. “Remember? On the car ride down?”

  “Yeah, but that was because I wore that ridiculous get-up you made me put on. Now I get more questions. You know, for not screwing up my speech. And for not hitting on girls.”

  She made a face and I wondered if it was because I'd brought up girls or because she was still hell-bent on not telling me anything about herself.

  “Come on,” I said. “What the hell are you afraid of?” I knew I was goading her but I didn't care.

  The frown on her face grew. “I'm not afraid.”

  “Then I get another question.”

  She let out a deep sigh. “Fine,” she said. “Ask away.”

  I seized the opportunity. “OK. Last night. You pointed down the coast. At Trestles?”

  She waited for a minute, then nodded.

  “You've been there? To that beach?”

  No one went to Trestles unless they surfed. There were no houses nearby and it was a trek in to the beach from the closest parking lot.

  She immediately looked uncomfortable, as if the chair was too small for her or something. She kept moving around, like she was trying to find the right spot. “My brothers were surfers,” she finally said.

  Past tense.

  “Were?”

  She hesitated. “Or are, I guess.”

  “And they came up to Trestles to surf?”

  She nodded.

  “And you just came with them?”

  She nodded again.

  “You must've really liked your brothers,” I said. I thought about other guys I'd surfed with over the years. No one had their sisters tagging along with them. None.

  She glanced away. “Well...it was...just. I don't know. Another guy, too.”

  “Boyfriend?” I tried not to trip over the word. Why wouldn't she have had a boyfriend? She was hot. Smart. Funny.

  “Yeah.”

  Her body language was like a big red stop light. She wasn't comfortable talking about her brothers or the boyfriend. And I wanted to know why.

  But I didn't know what to ask. I wasn't used to pursuing chicks. And I wasn't used to feeling jealous. Was that how I felt? My jaw had clenched and my fingers had flexed when she'd said the word boyfriend. And even though it was illogical and I had no right to feel that way about some chick I'd only met seventy-two hours ago—hell, a woman who was working for me—it didn't keep me from feeling it.

  I decided to avoid the boyfriend route. “Did you surf?”

  “I have, yeah.”

  I laced my hands behind my head. “Any good?”

  She finally laughed. “Uh, no. Not at all.”

  “Come on,” I said. “All that time at the beach and you didn't get good?”

  “I mostly watched.”

  I nodded. “Your brothers still come down here?”

  The light moment passed, and again she looked tense, anxious, like she'd rather be anywhere than where she was sitting. “That's like nine fucking questions. I said one.”

  I couldn't tell if she was joking or serious, but there was an edge to her voice, something that told me
I was veering into dangerous territory. It might have been the beer talking, her sharp tongue a little more barbed than usual, but I didn't want to take that chance. I got the impression she might shut down completely if I kept asking questions and that wasn't something I was willing to risk. Not when I'd gotten more out of her in five minutes than I had in the previous few days.

  “Alright,” I said. “You win.”

  Something flashed through her eyes. “It's not...I don't mean to be a bitch. It's just..it's all just weird, OK?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I got enough weird in my life to get it.”

  She smiled again. “Thank you. And...” Her voice drifted away.

  “And what?”

  She tapped her fingers on the top of the table. “And you aren't anything like I thought you might be.”

  I felt a little hiccup in my stomach. “Is that good?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

  “Don't be fooled,” I said, a little embarrassed. “I can screw it all up in about a half a second.”

  She smiled again. “I know. That's why I'm here. But...I think you're gonna be OK.”

  “I hope so.” I didn't want to say it, but I thought so, too. Especially with her there. Helping. And believing in me.

  She nodded and then stood. “I should probably get going.”

  I didn't want her to go. I was tired of being by myself and the last few days were the first time I hadn't felt alone since Jay died. But I didn't know how to tell her that. Not just because I didn't know how she would react but because I wasn't sure I could find the words.

  “Tomorrow,” she said, leveling her eyes at me. “You can do it, right? Apologize to the guy? With no drama?”

  I took a deep breath. “Yeah. I'll do it. Whatever you tell me. I'll do it.”

  “OK, good,” she said. She tucked her hair behind her ears and suddenly she was all business, like our conversation at the table hadn't happened. She reached for her keys and her purse. “We’ll make it quick. If they pull any crap or try to mess with you, I'll get you out of there. I'll be here about eleven.”

  I followed her outside. The breeze had picked up and the night air was cool. I could hear the sound of the ocean on the other side of the house. Steady, rhythmic, a sharp contrast to my wildly beating heart.